Sake and Other Fragments
by Riya3
Summary: A collection of ideas. Sakura, YonKaka, HashiMada.
1. Sake

**Sake - _In some twisted way, it helped. __  
_**

One cup couldn't hurt. It was just one. And the white cup sitting on her table looked so…small. Very small. Like it couldn't possibly be enough.

Sakura rubbed her tired eyes in her hands, which were scuffed from where she'd spent the entire evening at the training grounds. That was shishou's way of wiping the worry from her face when it managed to strain through her smile. Train her until she was too tired to think. Unfortunately, the thoughts had a strange resilience and clung at her even when she was barely keeping her eyes open.

This was pathetic. Her apartment was dark and empty and she was sitting there on the couch with a nice book beside her and a bottle of sake before her. She'd taken it from the Hokage's office in order to dilute it before secretly placing it back its hiding spot. There was a reason the Godaime Hokage could still sign papers five cups in, and it wasn't because she'd suddenly discovered how to hold her sake.

But now it was sitting there. Mocking her. Daring her. Wondering if she was adult enough, or if that seventeenth's birthday's she'd half-heartedly celebrated was just a number floating in the air over her head. With a sudden growl, she reached forward and grabbed the cup, gulping it down in one.

People said it did interesting things. If Kakashi-sensei and Tsunade-shishou were able to forget so easily, would it work for her? Would it make the thoughts that crowded her mind finally go away? Would she be able to sleep properly?

It took only a few minutes for the liquid to begin its work on her already-addled mind. Sakura stumbled over to the door of her bedroom, knocking over the bottle in the process and bumping her knee on more furniture than she cared to notice. When she was finally somewhat positioned in bed, she took a deep breath and closed her eyes.

Seemed like it was working. She felt the sleep creep up on her at even pace, slowly lulling her into a dreamy state. Before she fell to it, her traitorous mind leapt up in a last shot of defiance, determined to strike just one more time.

_Why … why do I still love him?_

* * *

**I wrote this for the prose instead of the idea, I think. I've always been fascinated by the Sannin and Kakashi, and their 'habits'. Tsunade is an alcoholic, Jiraiya is a pervert, and Kakashi is chronically late, while Orochimaru (the actual antagonist) seems to be relatively clean. I love that contrast.**

**Review?**


	2. Beautiful

**Beautiful **_**- He wasn't supposed to think like that. But he couldn't help it, because sensei was beautiful.**_

* * *

_Stop thinking that. It's not right. _

Hatake Kakashi – the fifteen-year-old anbu operative Hound – stood at the base of the Hokage's tower, clutching a mission report paper in one hand. His clothes were clean but inside its sheathe, his tanto was stained with blood.

"You're going to actually deliver the report by yourself, Kakashi-senpai?" The masked boy standing beside him exclaimed. "As in, you're not going to make _me _do it?"

"Go back to the briefing room," Kakashi told him. "I'll report to Yondaime-sama."

"Thanks, Kakashi-senpai! Come with us today night, ok? I'll pay!"

He nodded and watched his older subordinate shunshin away. He wouldn't go, even if they invited him. Sake was nice and it burned down his throat and made him forget, but Yondaime-sama was still his sensei and he frowned whenever he heard of his lone student drinking.

Five agonizing minutes later, he was standing in the Hokage's office, handing the paper to the man who sat behind the desk. The man who was smiling at him from below the rim of his Hokage's hat.

"Ah, perfect again," Namikaze Minato remarked. His blue, blue eyes scanned the sheet, reading through the report written in Kakashi's elegant hand.

"No problems were encountered, Yondaime-sama," Kakashi said stiffly, hands clasped behind his back.

_Stop it. It's wrong. _

He couldn't help his eyes from locking onto his sensei's form, from following those long fingers when they removed his Hokage's hat and placed it on the desk, displaying hair that gleamed a burnished yellow.

Minato chuckled, and his voice was a rich sound that reverberated through the office. "How many times do I have to tell you that you can still call me 'Minato-sensei'. It's difficult enough getting Rin to stop saying it, you know. I don't need to have to work on you too."

Kakashi gulped at his playful tone, feeling the familiar pangs of yearning rise. _Why didn't I just let Bear deliver it? Why do I torture myself like this?_ He nodded jerkily, "right, Minato-sensei."

"That's better," the Yondaime sat back in his chair, putting the paper aside to be filed later on. He laced his fingers and leaned forward on the desk. "How are you doing, Kashi? I barely get to see you these days, now that you've joined anbu."

"I'm fine, Minato-sensei." Kakashi clenched his fingers into fists behind his back, feeling the small moon-shaped markings left by his nails on his palms. Minato-sensei was looking at him with those kind eyes. They were always that same shade of blue, even in the deep night. That blue that shimmered like fireworks during Tanabata.

_Sensei is beautiful._

He dreamed of that lean form which was he quickly approaching in height. He dreamed of running his hands across the smooth muscles that lay under his Hokage's coat, of seeing that sculpted chest sometime else than the occasional glimpses at the onsen.

He dreamed of lacing his slight fingers with his sensei's.

_If he knew I thought he was beautiful..._

_It's not right. He has Kushina-san. They're beautiful together. He doesn't need his imperfect student. He doesn't need me._

"Kashi? Are you alright?" Minato's voice was concerned. "You looked a little pale."

"I'm fine, sensei," Kakashi told him. "I'm just … tired."

"Ah, well you should eat better. In fact, you should go eat now, before Kushina comes back and sees how thin you are. She'll never let you stop eating for a week," the Yondaime smiled. He stood up and leaned over the desk to ruffle Kakashi's wild grey hair. "Stay safe, alright?"

Kakashi gulped. That was what he said to Kushina-san whenever she left on a mission. And now sensei was … saying it to … him. He had to leave before he embarrassed himself. He had to leave to take care of himself … before he was embarrassed in front of sensei.

Because he was an anbu-captain and one of the greatest assassins in the Five Countries but sensei's beauty still brought him to his knees.

* * *

**Inspired by the YonKaka fic 'Aren't You Supposed to be Dead?' by checkerbloom. Review (^^)**


	3. Undo

**Undo - ****_They experiment._**

* * *

It's night, and they aren't expected back until sunrise.

Hashirama tells himself that he's young and sixteen and it'll stop when his clan marries him off. He tells himself that it's because the Uchiha boy arching under his every touch is beautiful, and he is. His moonlight skin is smooth and his body displays the same grace as his movements.

Madara isn't as disillusioned, but he's clever enough to not think too hard about these things. He sighs as he allowed his fingers to run over his friend's bare chest, pushing aside the brown hakama. The cloth is rough under his hands.

"Don't we have to hurry?"

"No, slowly," he states. "If someone comes by, we'll say we were dressing after going in the lake. If someone comes by when you're inside, I'll kill them."

"That's … morbid," Hashirama slips his hand under the tie of his friend's pants. "I'm sure they'll understand."

"If we go to the Senju compound next time, I'll let you decide."

Madara feels the smile against his mouth, but it only makes him frown and slow his touches, dragging it on for as long as he could.

"You'll have to undo your kimono yourself," Hashirama tells him matter-of-factly. "Why do you wear so many layers? If we're going to do this every night, you could at least make it easy for me."

Madara presses a hand over his mouth, and his dark eyes gleam in the night. "Don't say that out loud." It wasn't that he didn't want to hear it. He did. He wanted the boy laying beside him to yell his name at his highest point until everyone in the clan compound knew that he belonged to Uchiha Madara.

But then it would end, and it felt too good to end. He'd never had another's body respond to his own quite the same way.

"Why not? There's no one around."

"I'm around."

* * *

"You'll have to unclip that armor yourself," Hashirama tells him matter-of-factly. "Why do the fastenings have to be so complicated? No one is going to take the time to pull all those clasps open during battle."

"That's what you're doing right now."

"We're not in battle."

"We're supposed to be."

"We'll tell them that I won, then."

Madara's chuckle is deep when he presses his mouth to Hashirama's collarbone. His hands are rough but somehow maintain their usual grace as he slips off his hakama. The red, First-War-style armor clatters to the ground of the clearing, and his back presses into the tree he leans against. The night is deep back but he can still see the earthy tone of his lover's skin.

His own hands are pale as they touch it.

"You're much taller than you were before, all those years ago."

Hashirama frowns and clasps at his pale wrist, "you _are _aware that our clans declared war this morning? And that I'm going to meet an Uzumaki girl tomorrow?"

"I'm aware. I have no interest in women."

"That advisor you chose is beautiful."

"I like her because her kills are fast and clean, the way I prefer. No other reason."

"Well, I just wanted to make sure you know," he releases the hand, and watches as it undoes the tie of his pants. Without deliberation, he pushes down Madara's Uchiha-style clothing, revealing skin that felt different. Less soft, less silky than the moonlit beauty it had been five years ago. More rough, more firm, more battle-worthy. More _Madara._

"We can't keep doing this. We'll have to try to kill each other eventually."

"You can try to kill me if you like. It'll be amusing to watch."

Hashirama frowns, but he recognizes that this was about as playful as Uchiha Madara could be. "You know, there are some other things to consider. For instance, it may not be was easy to stop tomorrow, and her name is-"

Madara presses their mouths together, because he's impatient and he doesn't care about the clans and it's been five years.

* * *

**I should just go ahead and rename this short series 'Unrequited Relationships', shouldn't I? **

**Inspired by 'The Secret of Trees' by foxwedding. **


End file.
